Thomas Moore ( )


From Irish Melodies. 32. After the Battle


Night closed around the conquerors way,
  	And lightnings showed the distant hill,
Where those who lost that dreadful day,
  	Stood few and faint, but fearless still.
The soldiers hope, the patriots zeal,
  	For ever dimmed, for ever crost 
Oh! who shall say what heroes feel,
  	When all but life and honors lost?

The last sad hour of freedoms dream,
  	And valors task, moved slowly by,
While mute they watcht, till mornings beam
  	Should rise and give them light to die.
Theres yet a world, where souls are free,
  	Where tyrants taint not natures bliss; 
If death that worlds bright opening be,
  	Oh! who would live a slave in this?





. 32.


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  . 
   1970 
   


Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From Irish Melodies. 102. And Doth Not a Meeting Like This
  2. From Irish Melodies. 57. Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own
  3. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 50
  4. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 46
  5. From Irish Melodies. 103. The Mountain Spite


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